When the Heart Breaks Wide Open

Just a few weeks ago we skirted the edge of the Camp Fire’s devastation as we drove by Paradise, CA. Choking on the heavy smoke, we walked into the Target in Chico, passing mountainous piles of donations for those who had lost everything. Frankly, I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that this happened just 60 miles away from where I had lived in CA for 12 years. It gladdens my heart that so many are generously giving to the victims, who must be having a holiday season like no other.

Hearing the stories of heroism and courage, I could only consider one thing: I must do my best to share Light and Love through everything I do, in the time that I’m given on this earth. I may not be able to directly help those suffering through these times beyond what I can give financially, but I certainly can help those around me dealing with their own grief, loss, frustration and pain.

Whether through performing, teaching, a gift, or simply a smile, I can share the sacredness of this Holy Season without having to worry about their beliefs.

But first, I must open my heart.

And that’s scary.

Not in a frightening way, but rather in the I-don’t-know-what-is-going-to-happen way. For so many years I lived with my heart closed off. When my heart finally did burst open, I couldn’t control the tears.

And sure enough, just last weekend as I was conducting our Ananda Choir of Portland during our Christmas Concert, a holy presence came that threatened to knock me over into tears of gratitude. It would have been selfish of me to withdraw into my own experience or allow it to take over my composure. I couldn’t afford to go there, but to ignore it would be foolish.

Instead, I was able to find a way to balance my heart’s receptivity with my mind’s focus.

And that’s how I found my place of power.

For the true power of sharing through music comes through our ability to hold that higher presence, however you choose to define it—God, Christ Consciousness, Spirit, Source, inspiration, or even just our own highest potential—without losing focus on the music.

As I continued to lead the choir, I rode the edge of my heart’s capacity, lifting my energy with the sole focus of drawing the best out of the singers.

As we closed the program with Silent Night, I felt an intense presence of joy at the point between my eyebrows, the “Spiritual Eye”. I find it fascinating(!) that these experiences come to me not in my countless hours of meditation, but rather in performance when I’m the least disposed to go within and absorb deeply.

But even as I write this, I can feel that spiritual window still open, hopefully allowing me to infuse these words with the subtle presence of inspiration for you.

No matter how you celebrate these next few weeks, I wish you inspiration in whatever form you hold most dear. Sending blessings to you all!